Between Moonset and Sunrise
by raehex
Summary: A hunger sated, a thirst quenched, an archaic myth flipped off. [Werewolf AU & Vampire AU. Yes, both. Ambrollins. Rated M for smutty deliciousness and discussions about blood.]


**A/N:** I'm just too in love with Wolfbrose and Vamp!Seth and Ambrollins. It was bound to happen.

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><p>If it were any other day of the month, there'd be some semblance of emotion to this, with gentle and hushed movements and breaths; but it isn't, and there's no emotion except desperation and aggression and pure hunger.<p>

He had to convince Dean to at least allow him to be on his back, if he couldn't be on top. If it were up to Dean, he would have just grabbed Seth by the hips and fucked into him desperately, that rough snapping of hips that can only be described as animalistic, no rhythm established because this is only to quell a hunger, to quell an urge, to let the beast take over as much as he could allow for the time being.

Nine times out of ten, Seth would be ok with it, his face shoved against the mattress, muffled moans as Dean would take what was his, allowing the rough pleasure of it to overcome him. This, however, was the tenth time. So, instead, he had done his best to at least allow Dean to let him get on his back, allowing him to lock his legs around him, before the brutality of it all started.

He was used to it by now. He knew when the moon as at its full, he could tell in the little muscle twitches Dean would make in his sleep, how his eyes steadily progressed from looking their normal blue-grey to a more golden shade, until finally his voice was so low that Seth didn't think it was even human anymore.

Dean, however, also knew when things were not "normal" with Seth. When he'd start looking a bit more pale, when his moods were shifting much quicker than usual, when he's be nauseous and tired, until finally he'd catch a glimpse of fangs. They weren't enough to be of any real distraction to anyone else, but to Dean's trained eye, he could see when Seth would speak, how his lips would curl a certain way, and there they were; tiny, but sharp, a reminder of what Seth is.

It was always a complex dance when both their calendars would cross. A complex dance that consisted of limbs and mouths and wrecked hotel rooms.

They had known sleeping next to each other was playing with fire, considering what would ultimately happen, but they couldn't risk it with anyone else either. Sure, Roman would have been able to handle it; he'd handled it before, and he'd handle it again. It wasn't the _same_ though, there wasn't some unwritten rule about how those two just shouldn't mix, and that's part of what made this vicious meeting so much more for them.

A hunger sated, a thirst quenched, an archaic myth flipped off.

It was only in a matter of minutes that Seth had felt Dean's hand, feeling almost burning hot with how he was less-than-human, gripping tightly onto his hip, digging fingers in as if they were claws, as if he could hold onto him and claim him truly, to grab him by the scruff of his neck and hold him in place.

Seth reckoned he could, if he allowed him to.

Then came the hot breath against his neck, that low chuckle that sounded more like a growl than anything else, and when he felt his body pulled tightly against Dean, and felt his hardness against him, downright throbbing at this point, he knew all bets were off for the night.

Fortunately for him, or unfortunately, depending on how you spun it, he was also incredibly thirsty.

Two birds with one stone, or something like that.

He'd have to steer this himself if he planned on getting anything out of this besides one hell of an orgasm, because Dean was already grinding himself against Seth's ass, trying to turn them so Seth would be on his stomach, and that was not anywhere near where Seth wanted to be tonight.

It took coaxing, and needing to grasp Dean's face, fingers digging into his cheeks, to bring some semblance of humanity back, but he was soon on his back, boxers and shorts almost shredded off of his body, with two spit-slick fingers deep inside him, Dean's mouth parted against his neck, breathing heavy and hot against his clammy skin. Seth wanted to flip him over, to take his throat between his jaw and bite down harshly, to feel that sweetbittersalty heaven on his tongue. He knew it wouldn't happen the minute he felt Dean pushing his way in, torturously slow, hot and swollen and throbbing; Dean had apparently had enough of going slow, forcing the rest of himself inside, nothing but low rumbles now coming from his chest, the air forced out of Seth's lungs momentarily.

From there, nothing natural was left between them. Dean was arched over Seth, arms braced on the bed, hands clenching deeply into the bed sheets, ripping them with his grasp, his hips being the only part of him visibly moving. Seth was no passive player in this, bending upwards to meet with an open, panting mouth; they were too far gone on either end to do anything more than just breathe with each other. He wanted to hold him close and scrape nails down his back until he bled; he wanted to rip his throat out and let the blood pour down on him; he wanted to do nothing more than let Dean ravish him in this bed, to make him come over and over again, to collapse spent against him, and just offer his neck in silent gratitude.

His fangs hurt. They needed soothing.

His hand was moving quickly, wrapped around his own length, thick and leaking, desperate and feeble attempts at matching whatever rhythm he could make from Dean's frantic rutting - because that's what this was, this wasn't lovemaking or sex or even _fucking_, this was animalistic rutting and Seth was absolutely here for it - and he could feel his pulse in his ears and his throat and his stomach and he could _smell_ Dean's.

He wanted that orgasmic adrenaline to coat his tongue, to streak down his throat, to stain his teeth red and calm the whine building at the bottom of his being.

All it took was for Dean to curve his neck downwards, to bury his face in Seth's neck as his angle changed, and it was the opening that Seth needed, allowing that extra pressure inside of him to bring him to that beautiful, glistening edge, coming so violently that his eyesight went blinding white, before it turned pink at the edges as he sunk teeth into Dean's neck, groaning in satisfaction as he sucked greedily at his prize.

He rode out the pleasure, feeling as Dean seemed to thrust harder, faster, in a way only done by someone _not human_, before growling into Seth's neck, nipping at the skin and muscle of his shoulder, tearing the sheets of the bed into rags, fingers locked as if they were trying in vain to shift into claws, nails snagging on the fabric of the mattress. Each aftershock caused another sharp thrust, and Seth was too blissed out to feel it now, but he'd feel it in the morning, when he took inventory of what damage they had caused this night.

He broke his mouth away, licking at his lips, a laugh bubbling forth. He couldn't help it, his nerves were exploding in shades of silver and red behind his eyes, and his voice was rough, thickened with blood, and everything was absolutely _wonderful_. He looked over at Dean, whose eyes were glass as he recovered from his orgasm, taking the time to move down Seth's body, licking clean wherever he found a mess, before licking at the corner of Seth's mouth, dried bits of blood that had gotten missed.

When they finally did kiss, it was lazy, exhaustion and contentment flooding both their systems at once, Seth breaking away to kiss lightly over where he had bitten, humming in approval to see the bleeding had stopped, already healing. Dean pulled Seth tightly against him, face buried in Seth's neck as he peppered tiny kisses, before he found sleep again. Seth looked over at the window, seeing the grey of the sky between moonset and sunrise, and nestled back towards Dean's body, thinking to himself how it reminded him of Dean's eyes sometimes.


End file.
